Trio of Madness
by Gheckle Touko
Summary: Calista, Veronica and Heather have nothing in common. After a strange meeting and an accident leads them to learn about America, they find themselves embroiled deep within a conflict they don't belong in...or do they? T for language.
1. Prologue

**Authors note**

**Turtle: HEEEEEEEEY! **

**Gecko: You sound like a cheerleader. What a terrifying thought.**

**Turtle: STFU.**

**Ghouti: I have to go to bed you idiots. **

**Turtle: Aw, don't be so mean! Lighten up! J**

**Ghouti: I still have to go to bed. *glares***

**Gecko: Fanfiction is definitely worthy to be sleep-deprived. Now shouldn't we be doing our jobs?**

**Turtle: Hehe. Sorry. But anyway, here is the presentation of TRIO OF MADNESS! (Fanfare and shit)**

**Ghouti: I have to go to bed. I'm leaving.**

**Turtle: B-b-bu—**

**Gecko: Aaaanywaaaay…Trio of Madness. Ghouti here came up with the basic idea and then sat back to enjoy our labors. I made the skeleton of the story (his name is Greg), the plot, and characters. **

**Turtle: HEY!**

**Gecko: Oh yeah, and Turtle helped…a little.**

**Turtle: *pouty face***

**Gecko: And then I cracked the whip to make Turtle type the story (she gets really fast on coffee but gets distracted easily). **

**Turtle: Suck it, bitches.**

**Gecko: And then I went over everything she did and made it better. Because I am just that awesome. **

**Turtle: This feels kind of degrading…but whatevs. And now time for the Disclaimer! We—**

**Ghouti: Will you keep it down I need to sleep. We don't own Hetalia. **

**Turtle: *starts blubbering* G-GHOUTI! YOU CAME BACK! **

**Ghouti: The fu—**

**Gecko: AND HERE'S THE STORY!**

Prologue

19 Years Ago

There are so many unknowns in this world that it would be impossible to count them all. You get stuff like mythical creatures, why women are so complicated, and the like. There are several that everyone wants to know, and then there are those little mysteries that nobody really cares about except for the people who had way too much time on their hands. Generally these people are told to get a life, except for the times when said person is just crazy enough that no one will bother talking to them in the first place.

This does not usually happen.

However, when it does happen, sometimes you get a psychopath. Because no one was willing to talk to them and stop them on their spiral downwards, they become radical nutjobs.

This happens even less. Because some people are just sane enough to realize they do need lives.

But nutjobs are real problems, especially when you get intelligent nutjobs. Stupid nutjobs are easy to take care of; throw them a bone and they'll stay locked up with it for give or take twenty years, going on about this and that thing they discovered when actually it's just a piece of scientific shit. No, the real problems are the nutjobs who are in their right minds and can actually latch onto something, the ones who will actually know when they are being screwed over. These types of people are considered problems.

And if you get enough of these psychos in one place, they are considered a big problem.

(The last time that happened was Woodstock. Freaking hippies.)

Charles was one of these 'problem' type people. The government called him radical, insane, but it made absolutely no sense to him. Why did they care if he slapped a few people around to get what he wanted? The results were spectacular.

Real live country-people. Simply incredible. And apparently, they were thousands of years old! A strange country that had died out years before but still…existed. _Prussia. _A country whose human was extremely cold and seemed to be able to exude some sort of…purple aura? That seemed to cause people great fear. His own nation—America—a human that could break through brick walls without blinking an eye, but seemed to be a complete idiot. And so many more…they were, without a doubt, incredible.

No one had believed him at first—after all, he was just another crackpot scientist, right? Completely insane.

But then people had started listening. Paying attention. Albeit a very small group of people, but still _people _nonetheless. In fact, he was meeting with them today. Which made him happy. For years he had been ridiculed and mocked for his strange discoveries, but now someone was actually listening! Someone actually respected his work and wanted to see it!

As he stepped into that room, with his thick manila folder under one arm and his fate in his other, he knew that this was the turning point of his life. For better, or for worse, Charles didn't know. But what he did know was that all 22 people in that room were staring at him, sizing him up like some piece of meat.

Charles swallowed, hard. He'd never been good with crowds. He didn't say anything, just hesitated in the doorway, drew in a deep breath, and walked into the room. The occupant's eyes did not leave him as he strode to the small podium at the other end, and placed the folder on top of it, withdrawing the contents with a sort of determined finality. After a while, though, some of them got impatient. A woman, her long raven hair done up in a bun, rose to her feet.

"Are you Charles Krow?" She asked, voice clear and accent distinctly southern. "You are late."

"I am he." Charles replied coolly, eyebrows rising ever so slightly. "And it was no easy feat getting over here, I assure you. I came as quickly as I could."

"_We _got over perfectly fine." Another man—tall and skinny, with short brown hair and sharp green eyes—interjected, his voice slightly derisive.

"And who do you think was taking down the cameras to let you in?" He replied instantly, lips thinning into a small line of displeasure. The others shifted uncomfortably by this new development. "You honestly thought that I was allowed to hold a meeting of this kind in a place like this? Please."

When the group remained silent, Charles's smile brightened ever so slightly—but it never touched his eyes. "Right then. Shall we continue?" He asked, and plucked up a DVD he'd laid out on the podium in front of him. With a sort of flourish, he pushed the DVD into the player and started it, inwardly sighing in relief when the TV flickered on. Honestly, he'd had no idea if that was going to work—he was not very good with technology.

The first picture that showed up was an airport, people frozen in place as they milled about. Charles paused for dramatic effect, and then pointed to a blonde man sitting at a table, sipping some sort of drink, probably a coffee of some sort. "This is the United States of America."

There was a hushed silence. They'd all heard about his work, and had all thought it to be true, but seeing it was a completely different thing. The raven-haired woman narrowed her eyes in disbelief, but waited for him to continue.

"He looks to be in his twenties in this picture, does he not?" That thin little smile was back. People grunted a reluctant reply.

"Ten years ago." He pressed play, and the picture turned into another one, this time a picture of what was obviously a group of army men. They were all dressed in camo, and not one of them looked familiar. Except for the man on the end, and there was a ripple of shock when they noticed him. He was grinning brightly to the camera under a ridiculously large hat, blue eyes sparkling. Charles pointed to him now. "Again, he looks no more than twenty years old. This may not be so unusual, but…" Again, Charles pressed play. "Twenty years before that."

Again, the man in another group of army men—obviously the Vietnam War, judging by the date and the uniforms—and again, he didn't look any older than twenty.

"These three pictures were ridiculously hard to find—they had been wiped out, destroyed from any files anywhere on the planet. However…let's say, I had to smack a few heads around to find out what I did. But then I dug deeper." Now, he held up a picture that was terrible quality, but when it was passed around the United States of America's face was still clearly visible. It couldn't have been before the 1910's. And then another picture, from the 1890's. Another one, with the young nation standing awkwardly next to Abraham Lincoln, looking thoroughly miserable. And finally…a picture that was the copy of an oil painting of the room in Philadelphia where the Declaration of Independence was written, with the Founding Fathers talking to each other, and the image of America was clear as he sat next to Benjamin Franklin.

Everyone held their breaths. No one believed he was lying anymore. No one doubted.

"But that's not the only thing I have about these…countries."

"You mean there are more of them?" The raven-haired woman interrupted, her eyes flashing dangerously with something that looked rather…dangerous. Ambition? Some sort of pleasure at there being more of the strange human-countries? Charles couldn't tell. And he wasn't quite sure he liked it.

"Well…" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Yes. And you are?"

"Rachel Thompson." A boring enough name for a rather…interesting woman. Charles shook off the feeling of anxiety at such an ambitious person being close to him and his work.

"I see. Thank you. As I was saying, this isn't the only thing I have about these countries. Documents, files, all top secret of course. It was no easy feat to retrieve these. And anyone who doesn't believe me," Charles looked coolly over the group of people, trying to look for any hesitation, any doubt. He found none. "Can leave now."

No one moved.

After a moment of silence, one voice rang out. "So what are we going to do about them?" It was a man, his face weasel-like and unpleasant. There was something ratty about him that Charles didn't trust at all.

"That is why we're here." Charles began, and quietly began outlining his plan.

* * *

_18 years ago_

"Russia, I don't understand why this is so important!"

Spain nudged Prussia, his face carefree and cheerful, as per usual. "I am sure there is a very good reason why Russia wants to get closer to us!"

Honestly, the Spaniard didn't have a clue why Russia wanted to talk to the two of them together, but you never said no to a country like that _mammoth. _So the two of them would have to put up with Russia's psychotic tendencies until they could figure out what was going on.

Prussia scowled at Spain, and hissed so Russia couldn't hear, "That guy is a crazy bastard. Any minute now he's going to turn around and beat the shit out of us or something!"

"Now why would I do anything like that to a comrade?"

The two countries flinched, and looked around at Russia, expressions of guilt and slight fear on both their faces. Spain was the first to react, though, and he turned around with another brilliant smile. "Sorry, Russia! We just don't know what you want, and maybe if you told us we would be a little less nervous!"

The larger country cocked his head curiously, childlike expression somehow adding to the creepiness instead of taking the edge off of it. He seemed to consider it for a few seconds, before he shrugged their queries off. "It's a surprise~!" Russia simply said, and smiled in what was supposed to be a reassuring fashion. The other countries were not reassured.

"I still don't like this…" Prussia muttered to Spain, who shrugged minutely, green eyes looking off to the side as though disinterested.

And that's when they heard the shout.

The two turned around, and stared at Russia in shock as he was bombarded with…people. Black-clothed people who swarmed around the large nation as though they were bees and he was a bear. However the people only remained on the country for a few seconds, because he easily leapt into the air and shook them off, his pipe appearing out of nowhere as his purple eyes flashed dangerously. But the people were no longer interested in Russia; one of them shouted something to the others, and then they descended upon Prussia and Spain. The two countries were fighting back, but the numbers were enough to push them back.

Prussia felt a small, curious prick on the back of his neck, but he ignored it. Probably just a bug or something.

Spain felt something jab into his arm, and flinched back, his elbow slamming into the persons face. The person grunted and fell back, landing with a nasty thump on the ground. A second later, the strange people who had attack them vanished.

Prussia blinked, staring at the now empty space. Spain and Russia did so as well, their weapons still raised up in case of another attack.

But another one didn't come.

_Several yards away, the strange people all pulled off their hoods and stared at each other in shock. _

_"They were monsters." One of them whispered, shuddering. _

_"But did we get it?"_

_"…yes."_

**Turtle: Hey, peeps. It is I. **

**So listen up, everyone. Welcome to a Trio of Madness. First of all, you might know me better as 'IceEckos12', and Gecko as 'West Carson Girl'. Ghouti doesn't really have an FF account, so technically this is where she would post stuff…? But anyway. **

**The author's note was a little crazy up there, since we weren't actually all talking to each other—Ghouti literally had to go to bed—so we kind of had to guess what she'd say. I think it's pretty accurate, personally, but whatevs. The only reason they're not here too is because this is the serious author's note and I really ****_don't _****feel like getting in contact with the others because trying to talk to those two psychos yesterday was hard enough. -_- **

**But we are actually three different people, in case that confused any of you. But as we were saying, this is how the story is being written; Ghouti came up with the idea when she read another FF. She told me, and then we both told Gecko. Gecko and I came up with the plotline and characters (I did more than a little, thank you very much), and I wrote it. **

**Just a warning: THIS IS AN OC STORY. Three OC's, guys. However these are not Mary Sue's, and there will—hopefully—be character development. Which is the bane of my short existence.**

**I do think that's all…yup. And we do have this entire story planned out, so we won't be floundering for a proper plotline. Well, that's debatable...**

**Turtle, out!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Turtle: Hey, guys. First chapter. This story will be updated every two or three weeks, so updates will always be here. The countries don't really get involved for a while, so you're going to have to be a little patient. Gecko and Ghouti are still sleeping, like any sane person should be doing, so that's why they're not here with me...anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

_Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

"Son of a bitch."

Calista Carlos swore violently under her breath, hesitating slightly before lashing out, taking her anger out on a nearby tree. The foot that made contact landed awkwardly, and the teen let out a loud, "Aw, FUCK!" And wobbled unsteadily on her other foot, shaking out the pain, glaring at the sturdy tree angrily. Not that it deserved it, but why the hell should she care? The damn thing didn't have _nearly _as many problems as she did.

First of all, life was crap. Her grades were failing. Her social life was not looking any better. And the worst part about it was that Calista only felt like bitching. Her parents weren't helping either…_ 'Why don't you try harder? You're smart enough.' _And on and on…her parents didn't understand. How could they? They had long since outgrown their teenage years, and they sure weren't looking back.

(Don't get her wrong, she loved her parents. It was just that they expected way more than she could really give.)

This was one of those days where she didn't want to deal with anything—not her antagonizing classmates, not her disapproving teachers, not her disappointed parents—nothing. And there was this forest sitting so conveniently behind the school. _You know, _Calista thought moodily, _they really should've expected this, building in front of a forest. It's like they were asking for people to freaking _skip.

And so, Calista continued stomping (limping) as loud as she possibly could through the lush green forest of New York…

* * *

Heather Brenards was not a delinquent.

She did not skip.

She did not break the rules, or do anything of the sort.

And yet, she found herself staring wistfully into the forest and it's cool, welcoming embrace, wanting nothing more than to walk right into there and lose herself in it. School was pressing in on her lately, stressing her out more than usual.

She had her hiking pack with her; it would only take a few minutes and to retrieve it and escape into the sanctuary. It was very, very tempting; she wondered if her parents would notice her vanishing. _You have to be a good influence on your little brother, _she told herself chidingly. Heather sighed, and turned away—only to stiffen as the pull of the forest called a little louder, tugging her in.

Surely…it couldn't hurt. Could it? Her little brother didn't have to find out. And what her parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them. It would only…

Moments later, her backpack was secured on her back, and she was crashing happily through the undergrowth. Well not really _crashing. _She was actually being very quiet—sometimes Heather felt more at home in the woods than in her own house. And it had been a very long time since she'd been in the forest by herself; more often than not she'd be leading a couple of noisy brats through well-beaten paths. It wasn't that the kids tried to be annoying and loud; they just naturally scared off the majority of the wildlife, which made everything a little less exciting than it usually was.

But now Heather could fully appreciate the sounds of the forest; the trills of the birds, the soft rustle of rabbits and squirrels, the loud _thump_ of a dangerous predator—

_What? _

She froze, and listened harder, clenching her eyes shut in concentration. Yes, there was definitely the loud crashing of a large predator; she needed to get somewhere high, or she'd be eaten…!

As swiftly as Heather could, she scaled a tall tree, making it fifteen feet off the ground before finally catching sight of the creature that was making so much noise.

It was a teenager, someone who looked vaguely familiar, but Heather couldn't quite place where she'd seen the face. She girl had iron grey shoes with orange and red laces (and was limping ever so slightly for some reason), dark blue jeans reaching up to her thighs before it was covered by an ebony black sweater with a long hood. She had olive skin and hazel green eyes, crazy brown hair fairly stuffed into a scrunchie, though it looked like she was fighting a losing battle. She could've been quite pretty, if it weren't for her deep, dark scowl, and furious flashing eyes.

And she was _so _familiar.

Heather wiggled curiously on her branch, trying to get a better look. The girl didn't look like any of the other juniors in her class, but for some reason she felt as though they'd met before.

The teen stalked near her branch just as Heather's foot slipped.

She let out a sharp cry of surprise, and fell to the ground.

* * *

Veronica ran a hand through her silvery-blond hair, suddenly feeling pleased that she hadn't put her hair up in a ponytail today. Just for the purpose of running her hand through her hair. Because it was just one of those days—when nothing seemed to be going right.

Her friends were insufferable. She didn't even know _why _she hung out with them—they were idiots, through and through. Shallow, dumb, girly, take your pick. Veronica had more brains than all of them put together, but that wasn't a very hard feat to pull off. Anyone could be smarter than all of her friends put together.

And today, it had simply been too much. For some reason, she couldn't put up with them. It had taken everything she had not to start snapping at her oblivious little idiots, and it had taken more than that not to start getting violent at the lockers. It had been obvious that Veronica wouldn't have been able to make it through the day, so the only option had been to skip. _I'm not the first, _she thought, brightening slightly. _My brothers have all those crazy stories from all the times they skipped._

Her mom had given up trying to control her five brothers, and though she had done her best to do better by Veronica, it was a losing battle.

Veronica sighed. Right now she needed a distraction. Something to take her mind off of things. As nice as the gentle whooshing as the river was, it was just soothing, it couldn't take her mind off this depressing track.

Her distraction came in the form of two teenagers rolling down the hill, heading straight for her.

Normally, she would've been able to dodge. But she was so shocked by the sight of the tan, blue, and black blur screaming through the underbrush, Veronica only moved when it was much too late.

Something slammed into her legs—they flew out from under her—she was crashing down the hill, clutching onto something black, _fabric?—_they took to the air—

And flew straight into the river.

Veronica broke the surface with a gasp, the cold water shaking her from her surprised stupor. There was only time for a quick breath before the current pulled her back under. For a few seconds she was tossed back and forth through the raging waters, but the cold shock of her chilled surroundings forced her mind to clear. She wheeled her arms frantically—remembered how to swim—and then pushed herself to the bank, grabbing onto a branch reaching out to her. Coughing and gasping, she lay on her hands and knees, coaxing the water from her lungs, before flopping onto the bank.

_So tired…_She thought, slowly closing her eyes.

"Hey, are you alright?" Someone nudged Veronica's shoulder. She looked up.

A teen, sopping wet, sat above her, dirty-blond hair dripping water onto her face. She had pale skin and grey-violet eyes, and wore a tan jacket that pooled around her thighs. Her loose blue jeans stuck to her legs, outlining her brownish hiking boots clearly. She had a piercing, intelligent gaze, which was also calming and kind, at the moment. One of the most prominent things about her was her unusually large nose; it didn't look bad, per se. Just odd. Also, when the teen rose to her feet, Veronica realized the girl was very, very tall. And that she was wearing a black bandana with bright yellow sunflowers around her forehead.

For some reason, she was also very…familiar.

It took a moment for Veronica to realize that the strange girl was still expecting an answer. "Uh…yeah. I'm fine." She got out. "What happened?"

"My fault." The girl grunted, scratching her hair, which was up in a ponytail. "I fell on top of her." She jerked her head to the black and dark-blue form lying on the ground, curled up and sopping wet. At the moment, the figure wasn't doing much, so Veronica ignored her. "We rolled down the hill and fell into the river."

"Oh." Great, just another thing to add to her terrible day. For a second, she hesitated. "Do I…know you?"

The teen looked at her sharply, grey eyes boring into her. "You look familiar to me, too. I'm Heather Brenards. I go to the school nearby."

"Junior?"

"Yeah."

Huh. They must be in the same class. Heather didn't seem like a bad person—why hadn't they noticed each other before? "I'm Veronica Barrett."

There was that awkward silence when no one knew what to say, and no one wanted to say anything to move the elephant sitting on the air.

Finally, Veronica decided to test the waters. She'd had enough experience dealing with people—at least her dumb friends were good for something: _social skills. _"What about her?"

"I think she might've hit her head." Heather shrugged, glancing over when the black and blue figure stirred, groaning quietly. The two of them heard her mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, _"Aw, fuck…" _And then Veronica caught sight of two wide hazel-green eyes before they narrowed into little black slits.

"Hi." Veronica said pleasantly.

The girl stared at her warily, (well, more _glared), _and said in a tired, dark voice, "…Hello. Who are you guys?"

…unpleasant much?

"Heather." The taller girl grunted, sending the paranoid teen a half-smile, obviously trying to be pleasant to the moody girl.

The teen turned her eyes expectantly on Veronica, who felt highly affronted and really didn't want to introduce herself. Instead, she glared back, and growled, "Why don't you introduce yourself first?"

"I don't think I will." The teen rumbled. For several chilly, tense minutes, the two glared at each other, trying to stare each other down. Veronica lifted one eyebrow, her brown eyes cool and lightless. The other girl's eyebrows angrily deepened, her already-narrowed eyes sharpening ever-so-slightly. Finally, Heather glanced between the glowering pair, and suddenly smiled, very creepily. The temperature dropped at least twenty degrees.

"Why don't we all get along? How about we all introduce ourselves?"

Veronica shivered, actually a little intimidated by the taller girl, and it usually took a lot to scare her. Thank God she seemed like a pacifist. "…I'm Veronica." She spat through gritted teeth, keeping her eyes trained on the other teen. "Who are you?"

The teen glanced up at Heather suspiciously, narrowing her eyes with…what was it? Disbelief? Fear? Veronica couldn't tell.

"I'm…Calista." She said reluctantly, as though it pained her to speak. "Now where are we?"

* * *

As a general rule, Calista did not like people, and people did not like her. She just didn't get along with anyone in her class—now that she thought about it, she didn't get along with anyone she met. The only people who could put up with her were her parents, and they were _supposed_ to love her. Actually, she kind of doubted that they like her all that much anyway. They probably only felt some sort of obligation to pretend to like her because they were family.

But anyway, she did not like these strange people that she'd (literally) _crashed _into; and this was not helped by her pounding head. Most likely a concussion, Calista realized as she prodded the tender bump forming on her head, and let out a soft groan, which her other two companions ignored steadfastly.

Speaking of them, it was obvious to her that she and Veronica would not get along. They were simply too different; Calista didn't like talking to people and rarely gave her respect to anyone, while Veronica expected to respected _and _talked to. This created such a violent rub between the two of them that they most likely would never be able to talk without arguing.

Calista acknowledged this with a sigh. Just another person she'd have to avoid.

Heather, however, was someone else entirely. She seemed patient and reasonable, able to put up with Calista's thorny attitude instead of pushing her away like everyone else always did.

Maybe…they could be friends?

But…no one had ever wanted to be her friend before. _Dammit, quit being a wimp and stop bitching, _she spat to herself. _Who would want to be friends with a loser like you?_

She'd been so focused on mentally berating herself that she hadn't noticed the other two stopping until she'd ran straight into them. As Calista stumbled back, however, she caught her foot on a root and crashed into the ground, her ankle letting out a painful pang. "Aw, fuck!" She shouted, gripping the injured appendage in her two hands, cursing angrily under her breath, completely ignoring Heather and Veronica's odd stares.

"Why the hell did we stop?" Calista shouted angrily, face creased into an angry snarl.

"That," Heather said simply, and pointed off into the trees.

Calista followed the direction the finger was pointing, and let her eyes rest on a big, Victorian-styled house in front of them. It was the nicest house she'd ever seen, but also probably the creepiest, too. It had that old Vicky-style feel that had always freaked her out, and there were vines crawling all over the cream walls and the cracked windows, trees casting dark shadows on the tall structure. It was three stories tall, and obviously had been abandoned a long time ago.

The three were silent for several seconds. Then, Heather asked softly, "Are we going inside?"

Calista opened her mouth to immediately say no, because that house was creeping the shit out of her even if she'd never admit it out loud, but was immediately overruled by Veronica's enthusiastic, "Hell yeah we are!"

The teen glared at Veronica, and rose to her feet. "No way! What if the floors collapse or some shit like that?"

"I wasn't talking to _you." _Veronica said, looking scathingly over at Calista. "I was talking to _Heather. _If she wants to, of course." She said as an afterthought. "Besides, the more danger the better!_" _

They both looked at the taller girl, who shrugged. "I don't care."

"Then come on!" Veronica shouted, latching onto Heather's arm and pulling her towards the creepy house.

Calista shook her head in disgust, and turned back to the forest—only to realize that it had gotten darker and the mood of the house was spreading and _seriously _starting to freak her out. The last thing she wanted to do was go waltzing through the forest.

She looked back at the house, cursed violently under her breath, and hurried after Heather and Veronica.

**So what have we established?**

**Calista is kind of a jerk, Veronica is a leader, and Heather just doesn't care. **

**Excellent. No other comments thus far. **

**Gheckle Touko**


	3. Chapter 2

**Merp. No school for four days. My head hurts. Phantom pains from tomorrow. It's warning me not to go, but...merp. I don't own hetalia.**

Heather was generally a go-with-the-flow sort of person. If her friends were doing something, then it was highly likely that Heather would go do it as well—unless it was ridiculously stupid, which more often than not it was. But anyway, it wasn't because Heather was a follower or anything—no. It was just because she simply did not care. She could do what she wanted on her own time, anyway.

Heather had a sort of apathy towards everything; she didn't really have an opinion on anything. She went to school because she liked to learn and her parents told her to. She worked because she needed money for extracurricular activities. There was no, 'just because' in her life. There was always a reason for doing something, because if she didn't have a reason for doing something most likely she would shrug it off as unimportant. She even left the school to go to the forest because of the absolute _need _to get as far away as possible from the stuffy atmosphere and into the place she considered home.

No, it hadn't been a need, now that Heather thought about it. It was want_. _Unnecessary _want._ So why had she done it? Of course she did give in to her wants sometimes, but school was infinitely more important. School was priority.

But here she was. Kicking down an old, rotten door, with two people behind her; one excited beyond reason and one irritated beyond comprehension. There was no _reason _to be here. Heather didn't _know _these people; she'd only just _met _them. In fact, she wasn't quite sure she liked either of them. Calista was thorny, prickly, and unpleasant to be around. Veronica was perhaps the exact opposite; she was easy to connect to, but it almost seemed like…she was _patronizing _the other two.

With a final grunt, the door fell beneath her powerful kick.

But here she was. And, as far as Heather knew, this was _highly illegal. _

"Come on!" Veronica shouted, startling Heather ever-so-slightly, grabbing her arm and tugging her into the abandoned house. The taller girl had to resist instinctively breaking the excited teen's wrist. Instead, she simply stiffened slightly but complied—her enthusiasm was almost infectious.

Quiet, quick footsteps behind them alerted Heather to Calista's presence. She looked slightly weary of the house, eyes narrowed (they hadn't opened from their slits since being washed up from the river) at the rotting wood and decrepit stench. Heather watched her unblinkingly as Calista opened her mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. "You idiots. The floor is going to collapse beneath us."

Veronica shrugged. "You didn't have to follow us."

Calista's scowl deepened, but she didn't respond, instead muttering to herself angrily, arms tight across her chest.

Veronica took this as victory and rolled her eyes, turning to Heather. Heather had no clue why Veronica had attached to her so quickly, but she had a feeling it was because she was passive and didn't really mind going along with her schemes. "Alright, so I'll take upstairs, you can take this floor. It'll be great! Call if you find anything interesting!" Then, she darted towards the creaking stairs.

Puzzled, Heather watched her go. For some reason, her ordering Heather this way didn't feel…rude. It was more _habit, _as though she was used to being the boss. And then, suddenly, an image popped into her head—of not too long ago, in the school lunchroom…

_It was just a cursory glance. Heather always did such things when she entered a room, _any _room. _

_Her eyes fell on a table, for just a second. _

_It was the popular girl table—the _stupid _popular table girls. They were all laughing and giggling and being general annoyances…except for one. _

_She was staring at the wall, looking bored and distracted. There was intelligence in her eyes that set her apart from the other girls. _

_Heather turned away, scan finished, filing the image away in the back of her head. _

Ah.

Now she recognized that girl—Veronica.

That made so much more sense. Veronica was so used to dealing with people less intelligent and all around more _shallow _than her it was pure instinct to treat everyone as though they were…well…stupid apes with less hair and more makeup. Completely understandable.

Mystery solved, Heather shrugged and leisurely began moving along, testing the floorboard beneath her feet as she walked.

* * *

Veronica couldn't help frowning softly.

Honestly, she didn't _mean _to treat Heather like she was treating her other friends. It was quite obvious Heather was wise—not exactly smart, per se, but wise_—_but for some reason her brain just _wasn't getting it, _because Heather was acting quite a bit like a brick wall. And Veronica felt terrible for treating her like that, but with Heather it was a very natural thing; she seemed like a very simple person, willing to do what Veronica wanted. She didn't complain, she didn't protest when she was ordered around. But Veronica knew she was offended. How could she _not _be?

Now that Veronica thought about it, Heather seemed just a hint _too _passive. It seemed as though there was some sort of chilly monster hiding deep in Heather, something that was able to stop Veronica's anger and Calista's…_whatever…_in its tracks.

She would have to be very, very careful around Heather. Calista was manageable; her anger made her easy to manipulate. But Heather was dangerous in a different sort of way; while Calista was a raging fire, easy to quell, Heather was a chilling, creeping, _deadly _cold that slowly crept up and destroyed you when you least expected it.

Actually Heather was more like a very old dragon. Passively dangerous until poked, and then would get up and turn you into smithereens.

Ugh. All this deep thought was distracting Veronica from her exploration! She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

The house was obviously very, very old. The style reminded her of the very fancy houses based off early Swedish designs. It had also obviously been abandoned a long time ago, more than…25 years? 50, even? So far, Veronica hadn't found anything of interest, but there was still a basement she could explore. And hopefully Heather, with her sharp violet eyes, would be able to find something.

Veronica moved slowly into the next room, taking in everything. Obviously whoever had lived here had been very, very rich. Everything screamed _expensive, _but not fragile, which was odd. Usually when things were expensive they were quite delicate.

As she entered, Veronica realized that there was something different about this room; it was a bit better maintained than the other rooms, though smaller. Also, it seemed much more humble; there was a small desk near a reasonably sized bookcase. There was a swinging light on the ceiling, but it looked out of place, as though it had been installed after the room had been created.

For some reason, Veronica felt that this room was more important than the other larger, more frou-frou rooms.

She sat in the rather _uncomfortable _chair at the desk, grimacing at the rotten stench. Carefully she pulled at one of the drawers.

Nothing happened.

"Locked, are we?" Veronica muttered, and yanked harder. Still, there was nothing—no squeak or anything that resembled an old rotten drawer getting forcibly removed. Even when she put her full strength into it, nothing happened!

"Dammit," She muttered, leaning back in the chair. Her eyes scanned the room fruitlessly, searching for a key or something stupid like that—

A picture on the wall.

Veronica tilted her head curiously, staring at the picture. She could just barely make out the figures—it looked like a family of four, but she couldn't quite tell, the picture quality wasn't very good…she rose to her feet, pushing the chair back and stepping forwards so she could see it better.

It _was _a family of four. Two boys sitting in the front, both in stuffy clothes. They were obviously twins, with the same facial features and same golden blonde hair. One of them, however, was beaming happily at the camera, blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. He was obviously excited to be there. The other twin just looked exasperated, tired, and downcast. The reason for this exhausted expression were because the two standing behind the twins.

One of them was snarling at the other, ginormous eyebrows knitted together angrily as he shouted at the other. He had very pale skin, dirty blonde hair, and even though it was just a photograph, his green eyes were flashing dangerously. The other one, with similar pale skin but purer blonde hair, was smirking to himself, eyes shut, a rose in one hand. One of his almost _white _shoulders was exposed, giving him a very feminine look.

Curiously Veronica removed the picture from the wall—_this must be the family who lived here, _she thought—and tried to see past the dust coating the glass frame, but it was too thick. But from what she could see, they were obviously very rich, to have lived in such a magnificent house…_but, _she stroked her chin, _I haven't seen any more pictures of this family…even downstairs. Why would there only be one?_

She flipped over the frame, and took one long fingernail to the backing. Within seconds, the picture was out. Now, she could see it better.

Honestly, there was nothing else to see. It was just a _picture. _There was nothing _important. _

But when Veronica turned the picture over, she froze at the date.

_December 25, 1892. _

Her mouth parted, eyes widening. "What is—?"

But she was cut off by the sound of breaking wood, and one loud shout that echoed with a sort of tension-breaking air throughout the house.

"AW, FUUUUUUU—"

_Thud. _

* * *

Calista had been standing in the doorway, extremely bored, and extremely annoyed. She _hated _the way Veronica treated her like she was _inferior. _This house was extremely _dangerous; _any idiot should've seen it. It was highly likely that the floors would begin to fall out beneath their feet, especially since there was a basement (she had noticed a door jutting out of the ground on the side of the house, which typically led to a lower level). _And _the house was especially old, too. The stench of rotting wood was starting to give her a headache.

Just because she didn't want to get killed by collapsing floors didn't mean she didn't like a little adventure. It was just…when there was adventure to be had, Calista somehow _always _managed to find ways of getting hurt.

As she thought, she strayed a little from the doorway, looking at the elegant house curiously. _As long as I don't stray too far from the door, _she thought firmly, _nothing bad should happen. Right?_

The only warning she got was the slight give of the floor beneath her left foot and the sudden sound of cracking wood.

"AW, FUUUUUUU—"

She landed with a crash to the floor.

**Ghouti here.**

**Some clarification first. Ghouti is fish spelled out phonetically. It's not the facel hair. I would take that as an insult.**

**Now moving on to better things.**

**So...yeah. Not really the way I'd want to meet someone. Defiantly not. But the story is just getting started so maybe they can all meet again without chrasing into a river.**

**Or maybe not :)**

**Turtle: Yeah, say hai to Ghouti guys. OH MY GOD WOULD YOU STOP SAYING DEFIANTLY IT'S DEFINITELY DAMMIT! AND FACIAL IS SPELLED FACIAL, NOT FACEL. AND IT'S NOT FUCKING CHRASING IT'S CRASHING. Okay, I'm done. Into the third week. :) **

**Where are all my page breaks oh my god.**

**Turtle**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Merp.**

Breath rushed out in harsh _puh! _ as Calista slammed into the ground. For a few seconds she simply laid there, stunned and winded, wooden splinters digging uncomfortably into her back. Then, she sucked in a deep breath, and let loose a long stream of curse words. She did not let up, even as she rolled onto her hands and knees, even as she struggled to breathe. This was what Heather found when she looked into the hole Calista had fallen into.

"Are you alright?"

Calista's head snapped up when she heard the voice, and caught sight of Heather. She rose unsteadily to her feet before she answered, face darkening. "Fine. I fucking _told _you guys! But would you morons listen to me? God fucking dammit—"

There was a loud thump, some footsteps, and then Calista could see Veronica's brown-ish eyes peering at her face. For a second, Veronica looked curious. Then her face split into an amused grin, and she laughed.

Calista's face burned in embarrassment, annoyance, and just a hint of indignation. How that hell had Veronica jumped—_jumped—_down the stairs and not fallen through? It wasn't her fault that she always seemed to get hurt! "Shut the fuck up! How did you jump down the stairs? They should have collapsed beneath you!"

Veronica stopped laughing, and instead looked behind her curiously. "That's actually a good question. I…don't know." After a moment of thought, she shrugged. "I guess I'm just that awesome!"

Calista rolled her eyes.

Heather simply shrugged and moved back from the hole, catching Calista's attention. The taller girl ignored Veronica's, "What are you doing?", and the next thing that appeared were Heathers feet, dangling over the edge haphazardly. As the tall girl scooted forwards, she grunted, "Move back." Not wanting to be crushed by 150 pounds of teenager—though knowing her, even if she stepped away she'd fall on a spike or something—Calista moved away, flinching slightly when Heather landed. She was about to sigh in relief when Veronica landed with a thump on the ground too (obviously deciding that Heather's idea was a good one). However she was slightly unbalanced, and threw her arms out in an attempt to steady herself.

Calista let out a yelp as an arm clipped her head. "Aw fuck!"

Veronica grabbed Calista's shoulder, ignoring the stream of curses that were now pouring out of the shorter girl's mouth again, steadying herself. "Sorry." She said, mildly amused. "You don't have very good luck, do you?"

"You have no fucking idea." She muttered, and then glanced over at Heather, who…

Was no longer there.

"Hey, Heather!" Calista called, looking around for the taller, quieter teen. Veronica looked around, and realized that Heather was nowhere to be seen. "Where'd you go?" Then, under her breath, Calista muttered, "For someone so damn tall she moves like a ninja."

"In here." Heather called, her voice soft but not far away. When the two whipped around to look, they didn't see her. However they did see a door, which was barely cracked. This was obviously where Heather was, and Calista automatically moved towards it, only to tilt dangerously as Veronica ran past her. In desperation she crouched onto the floor, begging whatever deity was out there to _spare _her.

When she stabilized, Calista let out a sigh of relief, and slowly stood up—

Only to crouch down again when a spare piece of floorboard that had been hanging by a sliver fell onto her head.

"Aw, fuck!"

* * *

Veronica entered the room excitedly (feeling a tiny twinge of guilt when she heard Calista's pained shout), and immediately stopped, eyes widening in surprise at what she saw.

It was an office _filled _with pictures.

The photograph Veronica was still clutching fell from her fingertips to the floor, landing glass up. She ignored it, mouth slightly open, and walked slowly into the center of the room next to Heather so she could get a better look at all of the pictures.

There were some that were quite old—you could tell by the quality—and some that were fairly new. And it was quite obvious there was a large age difference; some pictures were so fuzzy from where she was standing Veronica couldn't actually tell what the picture was of. And there were some very new ones, brilliant color and excellent quality. However there was one thing similar about all the pictures.

One man.

A man with brilliant blue eyes, shining white teeth, and golden blonde hair.

There was usually someone else in the picture with the man; sometimes the same people she'd seen in the original picture she'd picked up were there, and sometimes there were others. There was a picture with the strange man and a little Japanese guy, looking extremely uncomfortable, as the blond had his arm wrapped around his shoulders, other arm disappearing behind the camera. There was the same guy with a tall blonde in a long trench coat and a pinkish-white scarf, and while the American was beaming widely, the taller man had his eyes closed and was smiling…creepily. There were also a lot of pictures with the same blonde haired green eyed man from the picture, and also more than quite a few with the blonde haired violet eyed twin.

There were other pictures, too. The blue eyed American in a recent military uniform, in a World War 2 uniform, in a World War 1 uniform…and one picture on the wall, of an American teenager in a stuffy old Victorian outfit, looking extremely uncomfortable. It also looked hand painted.

But they were all obviously the same person.

"What's…what's going on here?" Veronica asked, eyes wide as she looked around. When she heard a soft gasp behind her, she knew that Calista had entered. Ignoring the shorter girl, Veronica walked forwards to get a better look at the pictures.

"Photo shopped?" Heather responded, shrugging. Veronica glanced at her sharply. It was a rather astute response for someone she had deemed as a little unintelligent. Perhaps she had misjudged her.

"Nah." Calista said. Veronica looked over at her; the brunette had opened up one of the picture frames, and was looking on the back of one. "These are authentic. Legit, from what I can tell. Dude, this is so fucked up."

"Look, there's a desk!" Veronica ignored Calista, and hurried over to the desk. There were two photos on this desk; a picture of eight people in a state of chaos, and another of the blonde twins, one grinning widely and the other smiling shyly. Ignoring the pictures—they _were _fine quality—Veronica tried yanking open the drawer.

It was locked, just like the one upstairs.

"Dammit…" Veronica muttered, knowing better than to try to force it open. Whoever had made these desks sure knew what they were doing.

"Move." Calista commanded, nudging Veronica's shoulder. She didn't move.

"Why? It's locked. You couldn't do anything."

"Fuck you. Move over!"

Heather gently grabbed their shoulders and shoved them apart, and then smiled at Veronica. "I think you should let her try. Maybe she _can _do something?"

Veronica narrowed her eyes at Heather, frowning deeply. Heather was so much more dangerous than she had guessed; she had been stupid to underestimate her. Smarter than she had thought, _and _she was intimidating. Perhaps it was better if she just…moved aside.

Calista snorted angrily and knelt down in front of the desk, removing a paper clip from her pocket. She quickly bent it out, and pressed her ear to the wood. Carefully, she inserted the clip and began wiggling it, listening to the tumblers inside the lock.

Heather blinked in surprise. Veronica's eyes widened in shock. Now _that _was something they hadn't expected.

After a minute or so, Calista had jimmied the lock open. She put the paper clip back in her pocket and slid the drawer open—it moved smoothly for something so old—and began putting papers onto the desk. When she turned around to look at the duo, a 'happy?' about to escape her lips, she stopped at their stunned expressions. When they didn't stop staring, Calista went on the defensive. "What the hell are you staring at?"

"N-nothing." Veronica responded, and then shook herself out of her shock. "Let me see."

As she was going through papers, Calista stepped back, not really interested in going through other people's stuff. She glanced at Heather, who was staring at the pictures on the wall silently, and then back at Veronica, who was excitedly rummaging through the papers, making excited noises every few seconds. "Why the hell do you like digging through other people's stuff so much? It's kind of rude, you know?"

"Like you're one to talk, miss 'polite…" Veronica trailed off, and stilled. Then, she spoke in a hushed voice, "His name's America."

"_What?" _Calista whipped around so fast she nearly got whiplash. Behind her, Heather also glanced at Veronica sharply.

"He's a country." Veronica's stunned voice continued. "He goes by the human name Alfred F. Jones. And he's over three centuries old."

"Bullshit." Calista growled, and moved forwards towards the desk, glancing down at the papers. "It's impossible! There can't be…" She trailed off as she looked, eyes getting wider and wider with every second.

Heather moved forwards, curiosity finally winning over respecting people's property. She looked over Calista's shoulder, and her mouth dropped. "Th-That's…!"

Documents. Lots and lots of documents; some so old the paper was yellow and stained, some fresh and new. Some of them were letters, some were official documents, but all of them were about, or from, or to America. As they poured over them, they learned more and more about it. And the more they knew, the crazier it seemed.

"Th-this is impossible." Calista gasped, taking a step back. "This is fucking crazy! We shouldn't be here!"

"Why can't it be possible?" Veronica whispered, face white. Then, she looked up and her voice gained force, shaking some documents between two clenched hands, "Since when is anything impossible? Look what we've _found! _This is so awesome!"

"And then what?" Calista roared back, noting out of the corner of her eye that Heather was already stepping forwards to make sure they weren't going to kill each other. "So what if there is a country person thing out there? What are we supposed to do then?"

"If it is true," Heather interjected quietly, somehow catching their attention, "This is much bigger than us. It's obvious that no one was supposed to find out about this."

"T-Then how did we stumble on it so easily?" When the other two looked at each other, not having an answer for the panicking girl, Calista shook her head, and turned around. "I…I'm leaving. I don't care if there is a fucking country running around. We're playing with fire, and we're only going to get burned."

"Well I'm staying." Veronica said firmly, raising her chin up. "So what if we know? We don't have to tell anyone." She looked over at Heather expectantly. "Right Heather?"

"I…" The two glanced at Heather, who was looking unsure. She didn't know these two; she only came because Veronica wanted her to come, for some strange reason. Finally, she shook her head and turned around for the door. "I'm leaving, too. I know you don't think so Veronica, but Calista is right. We need to leave this alone."

Stunned, Veronica stared at the other two. Calista was looking a little surprised that Heather had agreed with her as well, but not nearly as shocked as Veronica felt. All of her high school years her friends had followed her blindly and without question; no one had actually questioned her, let alone had decided to leave. It was…she didn't like it. She didn't like that fact that _she _was the one getting told off. Besides, they _should _be seeing her point of view! This was an adventure! It was incredible! Didn't they _see _that?

"Well _fine!" _She shouted, the papers crinkling in her grip. "You two can leave and be _wimps. _But _I'm staying!" _

"Suit yourself."

Heather's cold words pierced through Veronica. And then she left.

Calista looked after Heather, turned to give a still stunned Veronica a hard glare, and then ran after her.

Veronica suddenly felt lonely—lonelier than she had ever felt before.

* * *

"Sis!"

Heather bent down just in time to catch her little brother, smiling softly at him. "Hey, little bro. How was your day?"

"It was soooo cool!" Max chirped happily, curling his arms around his older sister's neck. He was a fast talker, so all of his words blurred together. "The teachers were really interesting and I love learning and how was your day?"

She sighed, and nuzzling his hair tiredly. "Not so good, shrimp. Let's…not talk about it, okay?"

Max looked briefly confused, but it quickly disappeared. He adored his sister and always did what she said; she knew everything and always took care of him. If she wanted him to talk about himself, he would do it no problem. "Well…um…okay. So anyway, me and Karen were…"

As Heather listened to her little brother prattle along happily, she smiled, the days stresses easing out of her shoulders. She would have to do her best to forget what had happened, no matter how curious she was. This was something she could _not _pursue; she would not risk the life of her family— little brother for a whim. Besides, she was absolutely positive that nothing would happen. Today's events wouldn't affect her life in any way. It was highly likely that the whole thing with America was untrue.

But in the back of her mind, she knew it was not a lie.

* * *

"Where _were _you?"

Calista flinched, looking over her shoulder at her mother. "Uh…exploring?"

"_Exploring?" _Calista's father joined her mother, arms crossed, brows furrowed. "You stayed out till six _exploring? _Do we look stupid to you?"

"You can't keep doing this." Her mother interrupted, face softening. "You're _smarter _than this, Calista. You shouldn't be failing classes! Why can't you just try a little harder? I'm sure that if you put in even just a little effort-"

"You're not a teenager anymore, how are you supposed to understand?" Calista shouted back, flipping her hair out of her face angrily. She had put up with too much shit today, she didn't want this!

"Don't talk to your mother like that!"

"_Leave me alone! Just leave me the hell alone!" _ Calista whipped around, closing her eyes and walking towards her room, trying to block out her parents.

"You come back here young lady; we're not finished with you!"

"Well I'm finished with _you!" _Calista slammed the door and locked it before turning around and diving onto her bed, grabbing the pillow and screaming into it. Dammit, her head was spinning…it was just too much. This whole thing with America—who she was now wondering if he was some sort of super-soldier created a gazillion years ago—was too big for her. She knew she'd never be able to understand it…and it scared her. This whole thing was frightening. Veronica must have been some crazy-ass bitch with a death wish if she wanted to get involved with it. Thank God Heather had common sense and had agreed with Calista. Who knows where they would be right now if they had gone along with whatever plan Veronica had concocted in less than four seconds. If she wanted to go and get herself killed, she could leave Calista out of it, thank you very much. The things they'd seen were dangerous. Sure, they didn't know all the details, but…

Calista needed to forget about Veronica and Heather and get on with her life. She was sure they'd just fade into the background, and things would go back to normal.

But this day, everything that had happened—especially with her parents…too much. She needed an escape. A distraction.

Her eyes drifted towards her closet. That's right…her job. Perfect.

* * *

Veronica sighed, staring at herself in her mirror.

She didn't look any different—maybe a little tired—but for some reason, she felt different. Drained. Like she had lost something today.

Oh yeah. She finally remembered what it was like to be inferior.

It had been a very long time since she had felt like that. Not since her brothers had moved out. They had always been able to smush Veronica until she felt like a tiny fool. She felt insignificant with them, and she could never beat them at chess. Poker; yes, but never chess. She hated chess, and the feeling it gave her. Just thinking about it made her shiver. Veronica hated feeling inadequate, and with the people she knew, she never had to.

She didn't know why she'd cared about what Heather's—and, God forbid, Calista's opinion was. After a few minutes of deep thought, though, she realized it was because that was the first time she'd spoken to people as if they were almost equals in…a long time. Being friends with those idiots at school was changing her into an arrogant fool.

"What have I been doing?" She whispered to herself, staring into her brown eyed reflection.

She would…go back tomorrow to that house. She could call off work. She didn't care about their opinions. She wanted to know more about this America, whom she'd studied for about fifteen minutes after the other girls left until giving in and going home. Why would she care what they thought? They didn't know…anything…oh, who was she kidding? She was turning into someone just as shallow as those bitches at her lunch table.

Veronica sighed. She maybe needed to listen to those two and forget about America. Maybe this wasn't something she could mess with. For once in her life, maybe she needed to _let things go. _

"Just forget about him." She told her reflection, who stared dully back. Then blinked.

Wait a minute. What was she moping about? She didn't care what they thought! She never needed others! She was Veronica, and she hung out with the stupidest people in the school! Nothing was too crazy or too big for her! She was shameless! With a little planning and information, she could do anything! She could—she needed…

To sleep on it.

She would plot tonight, and tomorrow would bring her answers.

* * *

Charleston couldn't believe that this was really happening.

Really, what were the chances… there were three class A breaches all at the same time, but that was no reason for everyone to fall apart like this. Everyone was running around the room frantically. Some people were screaming hysterically, some were pulling their hair out, and some were throwing papers all over the place.

This should not be happening. They were not the best of the best, they out-classed the best. There was nothing that the agents could not handle. They were better than experts when it came to weapons of all sorts, hand to hand combat, and dealing with anything thrown at them.

Apparently, they must have gotten too lax after so long, so much time of not worrying about any particular disaster.

And it wasn't like Charleston wasn't afraid or panicking in the slightest, but honestly, this was just ridiculous!

Quickly sick of it, Charleston pushed some random agent out of his way, stepped up onto a desk, and brought his pinkies to his mouth. The high pitched whistle quickly got everyone's attention.

"Alright, everybody, calm down, shut up, and let me think for a second! Now, you there," he commanded, pointing at about ten people, "You get pictures of the infiltrators, run them through the facial recognition software, and get all the files on them _pronto_…" Charleston trailed off as he realized that no one was listening to him. Someone had passed out on the floor, and his friend was currently screaming about CPR and some other stuff that was really unnecessary. He looked around, trying to find _something _that would snap the tension in the room. His eyes landed on one of his coworkers, who had not reacted, even when the alarm had begun blaring loudly.

_Perfect._

"Smith we _do not _care if your girlfriend got sexy black lingerie and is currently waiting for you at home, we need you to focus!"

Everyone else in the room froze and stared as Smith's head snapped up. He wiped a bit of drool off his chin, blushed, and turned back to his computer screen, muttering something rather offensive about Charleston.

Said person did not give a shit. He had hoped that that sentence would make everyone calm down and shut the hell up, and it had worked magnificently.

"Excellent." He said to the now very silent room, "Now that we are all calmed down and acting like normal non-psychopath people, can I _please _have that background check?"

The room slowly creaked into motion. People began to react as though lethargically waking up from a long dream. They began shouting to each other, but it was the normal kind of shouting that is usually associated with the common workplace.

"I got it, sir!" Someone yelled. Charleston turned to watch her approach expectantly, quickly taking the papers from her as soon as she reached him. He absentmindedly began flipping through them the files—and froze when he realized which group of people he was looking at.

"The house is on lockdown." Another person said.

"We're sending a small group of people out now."

"Hold that thought." Charleston immediately cut off the person who said that, putting his hand in front of his mouth, still staring at the papers. "I want to choose the teams myself."

There was a momentary silence as the people digested this information, before work picked up again. If that was what their leader wanted to do…

And finally, "Who's going to do the paperwork?"

There was a long, drawn out pause in which everyone froze, and no one wanted to say anything that would attract attention to themselves.

"Smith should do it."

Smith whipped around, betrayal shining in his eyes. "B-B-Bu—my girlfriend, she—"

"Smith should _totes _do it." Another person.

"Ditto."

"I agree!"

"Sm'th sh'd d' it."

"That's nice, Mundo." One person said. This wasn't really his name, of course, but no one really knew how to pronounce it. After that, everyone ignored the transfer from God-knows-where and focused on their English speaking counterparts.

"All in favor?"

"Aye!"

**Poor Swedish Mundo...lol. And Maxy is soooo cute! Anyway, the new season of Hetalia came out! And there's a new chapter of today's story!**

**That's the only good news. I'm sporting a pounding headache and I've just finished writing a 4 page English paper. My head hurts like a sunnovabitch. Anyway...thanks to all the people who faved and alerted! This story is actually starting to get off the ground. And guess what? First reviewer! Gecko, Ghouti and I were all freaking out about it. We were so pleased. ^^ Gecko asked to thank the person personally, so...message from her!**

**Wasap Suckaaaaaas?**

**Hey-o, it's Gecko! You might be wondering right now, as to what the heck could have prompted a message from me to be put up, but I am here to announce a Totally Awesome thing. Drum roll please!...I SAID DRUM ROLL! (budududududududududududududu dum!)**

**Our first review: AppleDumplings!**

**YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!**

**You are awesome, thank you so much, and I completely agree with you, we do need more reviews! (Pointed look at all of the people who follow us and put us in favorites, and those that just read and do nothing)**

**Seriously, guys, review! Depending on your opinions, the story may change! And I like to take polls on things from my stories once we get enough reviewers, so please!**

**Anyway, thanks again!**

**-Gecko XD**

**What the hell is wrong with the weather recently? First a blizzard blankets the Northeast, and now we're getting tornadoes. What. The. Hell.**

**Gheckle Touko**

**P.S. Whoah, this is about 1000 words longer than I thought it was. Huh. **

**P.P.S. ARGH. FANFICTION DELETED MY PAGE BREAKS. RAAAAARGH.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I can haz Hetalia? Not really lol. Post!**

"Be fast and be quiet; we don't want to wake the rest of the family."

The men shifted uncomfortably in their uniforms; they were dressed to the nines in their uniforms, boots, and weapons. No one really wanted to say anything, but one man was brave enough to speak up. "Is all this really necessary to capture a _kid?"_

Behind his visor, the leader rolled his eyes in annoyance. "It's possible that these 'teens' are spies—we need to be careful. _Don't let your guard down."_

The others shrugged at each other, bulky clothing weighing their shoulders down slightly. Their thoughts were this: _even if she is a spy or whatever, she's still a kid. _However they knew that their commander would not put up with any back talk, and simply started moving into position.

"The front door is unlocked." One of the men muttered, frowning and uncurling his fingers from around the knob. "That's a little odd."

"A lot of civilian families do that." Another man muttered to him, getting into place beside him. "We're a lot more paranoid than they are—_go, _there's the signal!"

They entered the house quietly, immediately checking all the rooms; the only noise was the whisper of an area being clear. After a close scare with the targets parents—the man had entered the place distractedly and had nearly missed the large king sized bed in the center of the room—they finally stopped outside her room.

"Ready?"

_"Do it."_

They pushed open the door—and got bombarded in the face with something round, and…_spiky. _Granted it didn't do anything, since they were wearing visors, but it still gave them quite the shock.

And there lying in bed, hair a wild mane around her head, greenish eyes flashing with anger, was the target. She was holding a pile of small, spiky balls and snarling like a madman. As they watched she picked up another one and threw it at another one of the men; it slammed into his unclothed hand, and he yelped loudly. The attention was drawn back to her when she hissed—for some reason trying not to wake the other people in the house—_"You'll never get me alive, fuckers!" _

She tossed another one, and it was revealed she had very good aim; it hit the man in the hand again. They danced away from the doorway; one of them reached for his gun, but the leader placed his hand on his. _"Don't shoot, _she'll run out eventually!"

And, eventually, she did.

With a growl she threw the last ball—it slammed into the wall and _stayed there—_and tried to jump to her feet, hands already raised up in some sort of martial-arts stance. Only it didn't really work; the unexpected happened.

Her feet pulled the covers along with her, and when she tried to rise fully they were twisted up into a lump of blankets and limbs. Her legs were tugged together, and she wobbled unsteadily on the bed; a surprised and somewhat annoyed expression took over her face, but luckily the bed was in front of her—

She only got out a soft, "_Aw fuck." _Before she completely missed the bed and slammed face first into the floor.

There was a shocked silence. No one was quite sure what had just happened—none of them were quite sure they _believed _it.

When she didn't move after several seconds, and one man—the medic—started in surprise and ran forwards, hands fluttering over her neck to make sure it wasn't broken. Deciding it wasn't, the man flipped her over, wincing at the sight of a goose egg already rising on her forehead. "Ooo, she's going to feel that in the morning."

"Is that it?" One man said slowly, still in shock.

"I…" The other man responded, blinking. "I think it is."

* * *

He lightly crept up, making slightly less noise than a panther. As he looked over the bed, Dukeson poised body tensed, ready for anything before he froze.

This—this is what they were here for? Some sleeping girl? From the way they had been briefed, Dukeson had thought that the target would be some femme fatale trained assassin with secret weapons stowed all over the room and scars covering her lithe, muscled body.

The person in front of Dukeson was a young woman that looked young and quite vulnerable, her hair splayed out in a silver halo on the pillow, thick comforter pulled up to her chin. Yet there was something off; for some reason he got the feeling that her appearance was deceiving. Dukeson shook himself and took out a hypodermic dart, and prepared to make this mission short and sweet.

"Hello."

The voice was smooth and cool, and it almost made him think that she had been expecting him. It made Dukeson freeze.

"Uh…"

He was a trained soldier. A battle hardened veteran. Yet natural instinct and the bizarreness of the situation made him pause.

The girl turned her head to look at him, her face completely shadowed. "Can I help you?"

_What the hell? _Dukeson cleared his throat. "We're here to take you in."

"Take me where?"

Dukeson narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't know. But you're going to be taken to a containment area for questioning."

The target looked at him. "Okay."

She said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Dukeson blinked, taken aback.

"Uh…alright then…" He said, unused to having such a compliant target. Usually they would be kicking and screaming like maniacs, and that's when things would get really, really _messy. _

She threw off the covers and sat on the side of the bed so suddenly Dukeson couldn't help but leap back and raise his gun slightly. She was dressed in a tank top and polka dot pajama bottoms—not in the least bit threatening. "Let's look at this logically." Though she was talking brightly, she was eying the gun with a healthy respect. "You've got a gun. I'm in my pajamas. What are the odds I'll be getting out of this one?"

Dukeson had to concede that yes, the target did have a point.

* * *

Heathers eyes whipped open.

"Someone's in my house," she muttered.

As the words escaped her mouth, the front door of the house opened with a low, ominous creak.

Heather sat up in her bed and closed her eyes in concentration. Her eyebrows furrowed as she focused; then she heard it: soft, slow steps walking through the front of her house. Heather's eyes shot open as she thought of her parents and her brother. She got up, slipped on her hiking boots, threw on the tan jacket hanging off the edge of the bed post and grabbed her favorite sunflower bandana and blue scarf, and then headed to the window in her room.

The widow opened soundlessly.

And Heather vaulted over the side of the second story window.

Why the window? Well, Heather didn't want to face whoever it was head on. She wanted to surprise them—catch them off guard. Also she would hate herself for waking her brother up.

The soft grass cushioned her fall as she rolled out of her jump. She straightened up and walked around to the edge of the house, throwing the scarf around her neck. Heather was about to step out into the open before something caught her eye, sending her back to the safety of the shadows.

Black cars parked next to each other in the shadows around the street lamp. People talked quietly around them, giving orders and taking them. The person who had opened the door on the lower levels had shut it again and was talking to someone else.

Heather scanned the area. _They're here for a reason _she thought to herself. She thought for a few more seconds, watching the people. _My brother wouldn't do anything to upset the law and both mom and dad are good people, so... _then the reason hit her. The woods. The house. The papers. That America person. They wanted her.

Heather looked at the people. She needed to get them away from her family. The empty street stretching away from the people looked very tempting. Heather took a deep breath and walked forward from her hiding spot. Once she hit the sidewalk, the yelling started.

"Stop!" Someone yelled, but she was already running.

Heather ran as fast as her long legs could carry her, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Heather knew she could outrun the slower people, but she was starting to get tired. She was really starting to regret not going on those runs with her brother. Progress was getting slower and slower every minute.

Heather glanced behind her and saw one person closing in.

"One at a time," she muttered and slowed down, knowing she couldn't keep this up for much longer. As the guy got closer, Heather stopped abruptly and braced herself, tucking her arms in as the guy slammed into her. She only had a split second window—she had to have perfect timing—

Heather shrugged her powerful shoulders, and the guy flew over her and hit it the street with a painful thud. He groaned as Heather dashed away from more people coming.

She stopped abruptly when she realized that it was too late. Stopping to take down that one guy had taken too much time; the others were closing in on her too quickly. There was no way she was getting out of this one.

But damn if she wasn't going down without a fight.

Heather charged into the group of approaching people, and lashed out at the first person she saw; his nose cracked beneath her fist, and he dropped like a rock. Ignoring the small twinge of surprise in the back of her head—_why were these guys so weak?—_Heather winced when a kick clipped her side. Dodging a punch to the stomach, she landed on the ground and swept her legs in a wide circle, knocking over several others. Rolling to the side to avoid a foot to the face, Heather jumped to her feet—and was only too late to avoid the fist that slammed into her temple.

She stumbled.

And they descended on her like a pack of wild dogs.

**FRIG. I was looking up fanfiction, and I was liek...either English isn't half of these guys's first languages, or they freaking suck so bad I want to tear my eyes out of my head. It was THAT BAD. Not that I'm any better, but hey. **

**Anyway...so we got two reviews for this last chap! Thank you soo much Sabrinita, and AppleDumplings! Really means a lot to us ^^. And I know this whole thing might be a little confusing...but trust me. There's a reason they're bringing whatchamacallits...er, guns and a full team of peeps to kidnap these brats. Just have a little patience. ;)**

**Sabrinita: Why thank you! It's going to be...a long, perilous journey. If you can believe it, we've got up till book five planned. Well, Gecko does. The friggin psycho. **

**AppleDumplings: Hahahahaha Awesome-possum. I like that. That's hilarious. Calista is really fun to type, to tell you the truth. Typing perpetually angry people is the best. And of course you got a mention, Gecko and Ghouti are practically idolizing you now because you reviewed. Congrats, you have a fanclub. **

**Oh, btw? Yeah, Ghouti's spelling is terrible, but she's not bad at writing. Her excuse: she never learned phonetics correctly. Or something along those lines. IDEK. **

**Thank you!**

**Signed: Turtle**

**Gheckle Touko**


	6. Chapter 5

**I be no ownin Hetalia.**

Heather woke slowly.

It wasn't like she was lethargic because of last night, though that had some part in it. She was just…not a morning person. A naturally slow riser. If anyone spoke to her within ten minutes after she got up—not woke up, just got up—it was highly likely she wouldn't remember it. So today was no different from any other day. Last night had been a fluke—she hadn't really been asleep. More…dozing.

There was a soft tapping, like a rock hitting something metal. Heather ignored it, and curled up a little tighter, wishing for her blankets—she must have accidently pushed them off during the night. Dammit.

The tapping got more persistent.

"Dammit mom, five more minutes…" She groaned and rolled over, not really aware of what was going on.

The tapping stopped. Heather was thankful, and let a small smile twitch her lips.

Someone unfamiliar started laughing. Heather was ready to murder someone.

"You're not a morning person, are you?"

She didn't recognize that voice.

Heather opened her eyes, and slowly rolled onto her stomach, wincing at the pounding pain in her head, and at the uncomfortable ache in her stomach. It took a minute for her surroundings to register, but when she did Heather just wished she could go back to sleep. She was in some sort of jail cell, with three small, featureless beds; one bunk bed, one regular. Heather herself was on the regular bed, and the almost indistinguishable figure of Calista was curled up on the bottom bunk. Veronica was lounging against the bars against the jail cell, tapping a rock against the metal. Her silver hair was a mess; it was obvious that she, like Heather, had been forcibly removed from her house in the middle of the night.

Heather simply stared around, eyes unfocused, before groaning and pressing her face into the really uncomfortable, scratchy pillow.

"You're the first one up." Veronica continued cheerfully, taking Heather's silence as an invitation to continue. "Miss Grumpy-Pants has a bump the size of a goose egg on her head. Why did you guys fight? It was obvious we couldn't do anything."

Heather said nothing, simply kept her face pressed into the pillow. It was too early for her to be dealing with this.

"Plus, it's obvious they have nothing against us." She was starting to babble now. "The worst thing that'll happen is we'll get a warning—you know, don't pursue this further, if you tell anyone we'll do some scary stuff, blah blah blah…" Veronica trailed off, the hand holding the rock resting limply on the floor.

"Mmmm." Heather got out. She was slightly reassured by Veronica's statement, recognizing the truth in it. They'd probably get interrogated, but after learning that they were innocent, the three of them would probably get released.

"But we're not going to wait for that."

"Mmmm?" Heather turned her head to look at Veronica. Her unintelligible groan roughly translated to, '_We're not?'_

"Nope." Apparently Veronica spoke sleep-ese now. "I've figured out a way to use my brains, Calista's…street…whatevers…and your brute strength! We're all going to—" She stopped suddenly, her brownish eyes roaming the room with sudden suspicion. She continued on a new vein. "Start a bar as soon as we get out! I'll be the brains, Calista can do backstreet work, and you can be the bouncer! It'll be great!"

This was obviously not what she intended to say. However Heather was not about to go asking around why. It was pretty obvious that Veronica wanted to escape, and she thought that they had bugged the cell.

"Mm." Heather muttered finally, and pushed herself up from the pillow, and stretched out her back—which gave a few unnerving cracks. Then, she leaned back into _seiza, _ignoring the disgusted look Veronica was sending her. She finally turned her attention to Calista, who had not stirred. "Has she woken up yet?"

Veronica had gone back to that annoying tapping. "Nope. I don't really care, either. She has the disposition of a swan."

Heather wasn't really sure how to respond to that—what did swans have to do with this?—but she was saved from having to simply grunt another time by Calista's sleepy, waking yawn. Heather turned to look at the shorter girl, expecting to meet angry, narrowed eyes, just like the day before, but instead she was surprised by a wide-eyed innocent hazel gaze.

"Morning Heather." Calista the not-so-Calista said—not _said, chirped—_and swept her legs over the side of her bed. She turned her cheerful, blinding smile onto Veronica, who just looked stunned. "Hey V. 'Sup?"

"Um." Was her short, stunned response.

"Cat got your tongue?" Calista asked lightly, though there was a note of derision in her voice. That sour tone and unpleasant expression was slowly creeping up into her cheerful countenance. "That's all right. How about you, Heather?"

She was sort of amused by this. "Mm."

"Mm to you too." She was starting to snarl now, her eyes narrowing more and more as the conversation continued. "I try to have a conversation with you guys and that's all you can say? Yeesh."

Veronica swallowed slowly, blinking in surprise. "Um. Calista, darling. What was that?"

"What was what?" There was nothing left of the overly cheerful girl they had seen moments before. The hostile teen was back in her place, putting as much distance as she could between the other two as she could.

"Nothing." The blonde said instantly, quickly regaining the element she'd been in before she had been unseated by Calista's odd attitude change. Heather thought she knew why; it was an unknown variable. As long as all the variables were known, they could be controlled and predicted in a plan. Throw a new one in there and you have to scrap the whole thing and start all over again.

Veronica yawned, got up, and moseyed her way over to the bunk bed, ignoring Calista's territorial glare. Then she glanced over at Heather, and gestured sharply with her head; an obvious signal to, 'come here'. Heather complied, only because she was bored and didn't want to be left out.

"So this is the plan." Veronica began before either of them had a chance to ask why they were meeting together. Which Calista would not stand for.

"Hold on a second, _Barbie._" Calista snarled, squeezing closer to the wall, looking highly affronted at having her personal space invaded.

Veronica looked equally offended at being referred to as 'Barbie'. "Now listen here—"

"No, _you _listen." She interrupted. "What the fuck are we planning for? You can't just boss us around and expect us to listen. And who made _you _boss?"

"Do you have a clever plan to escape?" Veronica asked, and continued before a surprised Calista could respond. "I didn't think so. Besides, what were you expecting to do, escape all by yourself? This is a government building. That would be pure foolishness."

She couldn't argue with that, but Heather could tell she really didn't like it. Calista's mouth snapped shut and continued to glare furiously at Veronica.

"Okay, so this is what I had in mind." She began, seemingly oblivious to Calista's stewing. "We're going to pretend that Calista got so mad she decided to try and kill me." Said girl tried to protest, which was ignored staunchly by Veronica. "Heather will sit back and do nothing. When they realize what's going on—they being the guards or whoever—will come and open up the door to separate us. At that point, Heather will overpower them because she's a better fighter than all of us—" Calista opened her mouth to say something again, and again Veronica ignored her. "We will then escape, and Calista will open any doors that are locked while we defend her. Then when we get out we will steal a car."

"How?" Heather asked, feeling like that little hole in the plan was going to be troublesome.

"_I," _Calista cut in sullenly, looking suitably annoyed by the fact that she was never allowed to put in her piece, "Can hotwire a car for you."

Veronica blinked, and a smile slid across her face. "That was a little problem I was having trouble figuring out how to do that, but problem solved! Excellent. Let's start now." The teen's smile slid from her face, and she rolled off the bed to stand before the two other teens. The next words out of her mouth were so vehement that Calista nearly cringed, and Heather scooted away. "You _bitch! _How could you! It was your fault you got us into this mess anyway!"

Calista was quick to respond, her face twisting in rage. She followed Veronica off the bed, and walked until the two were nose to nose. "Oh, _fuck. You! _You were the one who insisted we go into that goddamn fucking house! I fucking hate you!"

The two of them were really, really good actors, Heather mused, sliding to the edge of the bed. Though perhaps it was actually their true hostilities for each other rising to the surface.

"I hate the way you've been acting! It was like we were your enemies from the minute you saw us! If you weren't such a little bitch maybe we would've listened!" Veronica's face was turning red with real anger. Heather knew she had to step in really soon, or things would get messy.

"I hate the way you've been treating us _both!" _Calista shrieked. "Like we're inferior to you! Like we're fucking stupid! You arrogant little slut!"

And then she punched her in the face.

It worked. Several guards had heard the screaming, and now they stopped in front of the locked cell, staring at the arguing girls still shrieking at each other furiously. One of them fumbled for the keys and quickly opened the door, stepping over to try and contain the situation. Heather took that moment to strike, because they seemed to have forgotten all about her.

Heather lunged forwards and slammed her fist into his temple. He crumpled, stunned, staring into nothing. Then she took out the other guard who'd been with him, catching him before he could hit the ground.

The teen turned around to look at the two teens, fearing that the act might've turned into a real fight and that they were currently trying to kill each other. They weren't, thankfully, though they looked awfully close to it. Deciding that she needed to step in now, Heather quickly walked over and helped Veronica up from the ground, wincing at the bruise that was already starting to form.

Calista and Veronica's eyes met.

"…Nice shot." Veronica said quietly, but there was a slight coldness to the statement.

"It was a good plan." Was the quiet response, barely concealed malice swimming beneath the surface.

"Come on." Heather said, grabbing both their arms and dragging them to the exit of the cell. "We have an escape to finish."

**Ooo, the claws are out. Veronica and Calista finally come to blows. Well, Calista come to blows. Veronica will have her moment, don't worry. **

**Yeah, it's been a while. I know less than a month, so that's something. Anyway, we didn't get many reviews last chap, which is a little disappointing, but whatever. **

**There's a reason these guys can get out so easily, and it'll be explained at a later time. You'll just have to be patient. Anyway, Gecko, Ghouti and I made a recording of the chapters. I'll have to go through and bleep out all of our names, but if this gets popular enough we _might _post it online. Just saying. **

**Lulz. Tis very funny. **

**Gheckle Touko**


	7. Chapter 6

**I is be no owning Hetalia or my bad grammar. I think I'll just shoot myself right now for writing that. **

"Oh, by the way."

Calista looked up at Veronica, who was standing right behind her, arms folded across her chest. The brunette was working her paper clip in a lock, trying to get it open so they could escape from the facility.

Veronica took advantage of this momentary pause and kicked her in the side ("_Aw, _fuck!"), seriously annoyed by the fact Calista had _actually punched her in the face. _She hadn't been _serious _when she'd told Calista to punch her! It was supposed to be…a stage punch! And plus, the teen had a surprisingly strong hit. It wasn't a wimpy girl flail, which Veronica had originally assumed would happen. This meant that Calista probably had taken a martial art of some sort, or maybe had fought on the side or…_something_. That was twice Veronica had underestimated the shorter girl; it wouldn't happen again.

With a shout of surprise, Calista dropped to the ground, coughing the air out of her lungs. Heather started slightly, like she hadn't expected that to happen, though the both of them should have seen it coming. Veronica wasn't about to take shit like that. She never had and she never would.

"_That _was for punching me." Veronica growled.

"It was your plan!" Calista shouted indignantly, rubbing her side.

She began to grind her teeth. "But you weren't supposed to actually hit me! It was an unprovoked attack!"

"It's not my fault I wanted to rearrange your face!"

"Guys." Heather said, and though it was quiet and controlled, it had more presence than the two of them combined. The word hit the air like a jackhammer, smashing through the anger-thick air.

The taller teen had obviously had enough.

Calista silently turned back to the lock, violently twisting the strip of metal in the keyhole. Veronica crossed her arms again, staring at the wall in annoyance.

Suddenly, the thought popped into her head. _Heather would be an excellent ally. _

"So…" Veronica began. "You deal with arguing children often?"

Calista sniggered at the small talk. Veronica ignored her steadfastly.

Heather looked vaguely surprised, but shrugged. "I lead tours through the forest sometimes. And I have a little brother."

Well that was a surprise. Heather was probably the last person Veronica had expected to have a little brother. "Really? What's his name?"

"Max." Heather was about to continue, when Calista suddenly swore violently ("Aw, fuck!") and began shaking her hand out. She had obviously stabbed herself with the sharp end of the paper clip.

In a garbled tone—she was sucking sullenly on her hurt finger—Calista growled, "It's open. Fuck, it's open."

"Come on!" Veronica said cheerfully, tugging Heather behind her out the door. It was the very last door to the outside, and the sunlight felt absolutely wonderful after so long in that stale-aired basement. She let go of Heather and happily spun in a circle, ignoring Calista's eye roll and Heather's stoic…Heather-ness.

Then, remembering that there was an escape in progress, she stopped and glanced back at the static duo still standing in the doorway, watching her. She nearly sighed. They were helpless without her.

"Come on, guys!" She shouted, clapping her hands. They kept staring at her, looking a little uncomprehending. "We're still escaping, remember?"

Calista snorted and brushed by her, heading towards the cars, face an angry snarl. "You were the one who was acting like a fucking Barbie princess."

Veronica _hated _to be called a Barbie—she wasn't stupid, nor did she have plastic surgery! "Don't you _dare _call me Barbie!"

"Or what, Barbie?" Calista smirked at her, and opened one of the car doors. In the back of her mind, Veronica mused about how dumb these people were—why wouldn't they lock their car doors?—but this was pushed aside by her annoyance at the shorter teen.

"Or I'll call you midget!"

Calista shrugged. "It's a fact of life. I'm short. Nothing to it."

But Veronica had seen that brief moment where her face had gone from 'scowl' to 'Oh my fucking God what did you just call me'. She smirked at this brief victory. "Oh yeah…_midget?" _She drew out the word, enjoying the slight flinch she had gotten from that word. "Are you _sure _you're not bothered?" Unfortunately she couldn't see Calista's reaction because she had her face buried under the dashboard, her nimble fingers pulling out wires and other random crap.

"Mmmn." Was the short but angry response. There was a moment's pause, before Calista suddenly asked, "Where's Heather?"

Veronica blinked in surprise, and stared at the pair of legs sticking out of the car. Now that she thought about it…Heather had disappeared. She had been standing there, watching Veronica twirl with her usual blank expression…and then what?

"I don't know." She responded, and tilted her head to the side, trying to remember where the taller girl had gone. "Where _did—"_

"Hey." Veronica jumped and nearly yelped in surprise. Heather had nearly just appeared out of…nowhere! "I got food for the ride."

"T-That's nice." Veronica said, still recovering. However she quickly covered it up—she couldn't show weakness. "Where did you find that?"

"Around." Was the simple response. It seemed that Heather was going for the monosyllabic responses, and the silverette doubted she would get any more out of her about the subject.

"Resourceful." Veronica said simply, and blinked in surprise when the car roared to life. "Damn Sam, she actually got it working."

Heather looked at her oddly. "You expected anything else?"

"You believed her when she said she could hotwire a car?" Veronica shot back, and dove towards the driver's side—not waiting for a response—as Calista ducked out, wiping her hands off on her black pants.

Veronica didn't see Heather shrug her shoulders in response to her question, though she did see Calista's annoyed face when she settled happily into the front seat.

"I'm driving!" She growled, eyebrows furrowed into a dark 'v'.

"Uh…no." Veronica responded cheerfully, wrapping her hands around the steering wheel. She reached for the door and slammed it shut before the shorter teen could react and locked the door, smirking slightly at Calista's indignant expression. She mouthed, 'I'm driving'.

Calista flipped her the bird, and began digging around in her pants, looking for something that would help her get the car door open. Heather, with her infinite patience, gently reached out and touched Calista's shoulder. At first the shorter girl resisted, but then she saw Heather's expression and allowed herself to be led to the back seat, still growling like an angry dog.

Veronica couldn't help but smirk. Heather was a _great _ally.

As Heather slid into the front seat with almost eerie grace and slammed the door with a sort of odd finality, Veronica peeled out of the parking lot, slamming her slipper down onto the pedal. She cackled loudly when Heather had to lunge for the hand hold on the ceiling, Calista letting out a wordless shriek of terror in the backseat.

Veronica flew down the road, looking around for a good place to get off—and spotted a busy road not all that far away, across the grass. She grinned—Heather saw, and her big eyes turned to the size of dinner plates.

"Don't—" Heather began, but she was cut off when the car zoomed off the road and into the grass.

"_YOU MOTHER FUCKER I WILL EAT YOU FOR BREAKFAST WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE!" _

Calista's eloquent voice screeched from the back seat as they flew over the grass, tearing up the green stalks. It looked as though Heather was about to join her swearing, but Veronica didn't give a flying fuck—this was hilarious!

She cackled as they leapt into the meandering traffic, eliciting a high pitched scream from Calista and a horrified gasp from Heather—the most emotion she'd gotten from the girl in all the time she'd known her. There was a moment of confusion as she tried to orient herself—where _was _she going, exactly?—before she decided that hell, any way was nice. Veronica veered sharply to the right, letting out a loud whoop when the other passengers in the car were thrown to the side.

They were out.

Escape was a success.

~0~

"Where the hell did you learn how to drive? A fucking psychopath must have taught you."

Veronica blinked in surprise at the question; she'd been focusing on the road, as they careened down it, keeping it perfectly center—well, relatively perfect. It was sort of hard to be exact when you're going eighty miles an hour…on a sixty mile speed limit.

She hadn't thought about it in a while…when she first learned to drive. It had been a long time ago, around the time she turned eleven…

"A bouncer in a bar taught me how to drive when I was eleven."

She enjoyed the look of surprise Heather sent her, but was slightly confused by Calista's expression. The shorter teen had a look of surprise on her face—but it wasn't a, 'you learned from a bouncer?' expression that usually came with this admittance. It was a, 'you're actually involved with that shit?' sort of look. However she didn't say anything.

"Really?" Heather asked curiously, tilting her head.

"Yeah…" She trailed off nostalgically, remembering the day she learned to drive…

_"Why do I have to stay here?" _

_Little Veronica stared up at her older brother and cousin. She was old enough now, she knew what kind of work they handled. She could go with them! _

_The two glanced at each other, looking half amused, half annoyed. "I don't know, Joey." Jimmy—the older brother—glanced at Veronica, taking in her pouting expression. "What do you think?"_

_Joey laughed in amusement at the very thought of it, but said nothing. He had always been a man of few words. _

_"So there, Kit-Kat." Jimmy continued affectionately, placing a proud hand on her head. "Trust me, you're going to love Big Duog. He's such a teddy bear." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the huge, hairy bouncer standing a slight distance away, looking at his bosses expectantly._

_Veronica was very sure she wouldn't like Big Duog. The only thing she would like was to stay with her brother and cousin. But it didn't matter to them that she felt left out—they were supposed to be watching her while the parents were out, not leaving her alone with some bouncer!—but apparently their business was more important than her. Feeling abandoned and unhappy, she gave her the two a cold look and plopped onto the ground, ignoring their amused good-byes and the bouncer's pleasant greeting. _

_"Hey there, shrimp." He said, grinning. "I'm Big Duog, but your brothers already told you this. You don't mind if my apprentice hangs around, do you? She's a little prickly, but she's got a good heart. Around your age, actually." _

_Veronica shrugged half-heartedly. She didn't care about some brat. _

_"Great." Big Duog stared at her for a second, before reaching forward and easily lifting her onto his shoulder. She let out a shriek of surprise, gasping as she was slung like a sack of potatoes onto his back. "You seem like a depressed little kid, so I'm going to give you a once in a life-time chance to learn something cool. Okay, shrimp?"_

_Veronica didn't respond, still a little shaken at being lifted from the ground. This guy could probably snap her in two._

_"I'm going to teach you how to drive, kid."_

"You were that kid, weren't you." Calista said suddenly, shaking her out of the pleasant memory.

"What?" Veronica asked, looking over her shoulder to stare at the shorter teen.

"Little Shrimp."

She hadn't been called that in a very long time. Veronica wasn't quite sure how to respond to that—did this girl know her past, or what?

"I remember you two." Heather interrupted quietly.

"_What?" _

Veronica was about to start questioning the both of them thoroughly—how did they _both _know her? But was interrupted by Calista's shout. "Blue is on our tail."

~Tom~

Done with the conversation—Calista did _not _want to bring up the days so long ago—she turned to look at the road behind her, still a little sore about not getting in the front seat.

And then she saw them.

"Ah, fuck." Calista growled under her breath, staring at the sight over her shoulder.

She was never, _ever _letting Veronica drive the car. Ever again. The bitch was a fucking psychopath. She was bruised _all over, _and it was a wonder they hadn't been picked up by the cops earlier—though Calista actually would've welcomed the change. At least all cops are good drivers. Veronica—excuse her, the bitchy psychopathic Barbie (Just because she was the kid sister of the Panther and Leopard didn't make her special)—had nearly run into a semi. Twice.

And now they were about to pay for their little escapade.

"Blue is on our tail." She shouted at the front, prompting a blank expression from Heather. She rolled her eyes—noob. "The cops. Police." Insert other white-trash jargon.

Veronica snorted, and pressed the ball of her foot harder down on the pedal. "I hope you know I have _never _heard _anyone _use that term before, which means it's probably something you made up—" (Calista blushed—actually, she had) "—and we can outrun them. What's the issue?"

"They've probably got guns. They could shoot our tires fast as shit—that's what they're trained for, Barbie." She rolled her eyes again. "Just pull over and knock them out—ditch this car, too—they'll be able to recognize us. We can take Blue's car." Then Calista wrinkled her nose, realizing that they had their fingerprints all over the thing. _Well, damn. There goes our clean getaway. _

Veronica opened her mouth to immediately shoot the idea down—_her _way was better, _fucking arrogant little—_but Heather placed her hand on the silverette's shoulder and said firmly but quietly, "Let's give her idea a try."

Calista felt a small flash of gratitude for the taller girl.

"…Okay." Veronica said reluctantly, easing up on the pedal. She swung the car jerkily to the shoulder—Calista winced—and slowed to a stop. The police car pulled up with equal grace, which soothed Calista's scattered nerves slightly—it was someone who didn't quite understand all that much yet, so it was probably a newer cop. This would make things so much easier. "But let me do the talking."

She couldn't really argue with that—she knew she didn't have the most…pleasant…attitude…but it still pissed her off. She let out a low, unhappy growl. Heather ignored them both, already used to their ways.

Veronica rolled down the window, smiling charmingly at the awkward, gangly looking guy who was approaching the car. He was very tall and very thin, his hands and wrists skeleton thin, face sharp and angular. His light blue uniform was rumpled and messy, his entire posture screaming 'inexperience'. He couldn't have been older than eighteen—what the hell was he doing in this job?

"Howdy, officer." Veronica said cheerfully, her friendly façade completely covering her pyshcoticness.

He looked surprised, at her brightness—but then he clenched his fist and placed his trembling hand on his gun holster. "Get out of the car. Right now."

Veronica sent a confused look at the others, before shrugging and getting out of the car.

"A-all of you! I mean it!"

Now _very _confused, the other two slowly got out of the car, Heather walking around to the other side to stand next to Veronica and Calista—who was eyeing the gun with a healthy respect.

The man—no, more of a teen—removed the gun from his holster, which prompted a loud snort from Calista and two startled looks from Veronica and Heather.

It was a bright, lurid pink.

Calista let out a loud laugh, doubling over with amusement. Veronica had one hand over her mouth, her face desperately trying to suppress the growing smile on her face. Even Heather had a slight grin on her face.

The teen blushed furiously, but diligently kept the gun raised. "I-I'm here to take you b-back to the facility." In the back of Calista's mind the pieces clicked—it made sense that this guy was from the place they had just escaped from. But she didn't really care—his stutter had gotten worse with the embarrassment and it was hilarious. "P-Please move to the car or I will shoot—"

"You?" Calista roared, slapping her hand on her thigh. "Shoot? You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with that thing! A pink gun! Hah!"

The teen's blush deepened, and his finger tightened on the trigger. Veronica didn't really care—her ribs had nearly cracked as she tried to resist laughing—but Heather noticed. She touched Calista's elbow. "It's not a good idea to provoke him. A gun is still a gun."

"Look at him, Heather." Calista wiped a tear from her eye. "He couldn't shoot anything! Look at the guy, he's a wimp!"

For some reason this hit a nerve with the faux police officer—his expression darkened and his finger tightened even more around the trigger. "Don't underestimate me!"

There was a loud crack—and time slowed down. A gasp escaped from Calista's lips, her eyes widened, her body was numb—

And then everything sped up.

Calista's right arm exploded with pain, something thick and sticky began running down her arm. A soft 'Aw, fuck' escaped from her lips, and she looked over to see a deep wound. Her surprised expression was mirrored on the other's faces—though it was also tinged with horror. The teen stumbled slightly, realizing that this was sort of bad, and if she didn't get medical attention she would bleed out in the middle of this dumb, polluted street, miles and miles from home.

It occurred to her, suddenly. Something so inane and stupid she couldn't help but say it.

She turned to look over at the teen, who looked just as stunned as she felt. His grip had loosened on the gun, and he met her eyes with this odd look on his face—half shocked, half horrified. "I—I didn't—"

"You pussy." Calista muttered, and stumbled slightly, reaching out to steady herself with her uninjured arm. Her vision was tunneling, slowly. Someone's arms caught her on her way down to the ground. "Can't even shoot me correctly."

Blackness.

**YES. CALISTA ABUSE FOR THE WIN! **

***The next paragraph will be my opinion on the situation with North Korea. Please don't read if you don't want to hear it.***

**Has anyone else seen the news? North Korea...well to be tactful, they're being absolutely irrational. War is just bad all around, and they're PROMOTING it. That's completely insane, and frankly it scares me. Their way of thinking is almost archaic, except they've got these big ass weapons to back them up. NEVER a good combination. **

***Opinion end.***

**And now, a word from our sponsors! Ghouti, take it away.**

**…intense is the word I'd use, though Calista did kinda have that coming. Weapons don't hurt people, people with weapons hurt people. Everyone should at least of heard that.**

**Speaking of people…..**

**Let's all welcome the character that doesn't have a name yet! *crowd claps and stuff* **

**Yes, the awkward character has arrived. I think books are good if they have some sort of character that gets awkward in social situations. But most of the books I read don't….**

**Anyway, you people must tell us if any of the characters start to turn into Mary Sue's beside the Hetalia people. Its very important. Also, my spelling isn't that bad right?**

**Signing out,**

**Ghouti **

**Yush. If anyone wants to beta for this story by the way, I definitely won't say no. Thanks!**

**Gheckle Touko**


	8. Chapter 7

**Nope. Not a chance. Hetalia isn't mine.**

_"Aw, damn." _

_Big Duog's eyes widened as soon as the words escaped his mouth; he looked at the eleven year old sitting in the seat next to him—she was giggling at his expression. "You won't…tell your brother I said that, will you?"_

_Her brother was a scary person when they were concerned about Veronica. She didn't blame him for getting nervous. _

_Relieved that she had shaken her head no, Big Duog reached over and opened her door. "Get out. Crab will take you back to the bar. Okay?"_

_Even though Big Duog was mostly a bouncer for the bar, he also owned his own car repair shop. It was a great place, too; good prices, honest service…everything anyone could ask for. However it would _not _be good for business if the large man was seen teaching eleven year olds how to drive. That was a no-no. _

_Veronica scrambled out one side, still exhilarated by the lesson she had just gotten; it was so much fun driving the car!_

_"You drive like a drunk."_

_She whipped around and glared at whoever had spoken. _

_It was another young girl who looked to be about her age; her hair was cut so short it almost looked like a boy's, and she was wearing a burnt orange hoodie and blue jeans. There weren't any distinguishing features about her, except for her snarling face. It was quite a large snarl, too. Veronica couldn't help but be a little impressed. _

_"I'm just learning." She countered defensively, remembering Big Duog's praise through his green face. _

_"Whatever." The girl—Crab—muttered in response. "Come on. We can't be seen—especially not you."_

_Confused, Veronica followed the girl's path, which kept them hidden from sight the entire time. "Why's that?"_

_"Your family is one of the most likely mob affiliations in this part of town." Crab smiled wryly at her, grease stained cheeks popping. "It's hard enough convincing the Po that B.D. is getting enough dough from just bouncing and fixing cars. They're also suspicious of your brothers. Imagine if someone saw you and him together."_

_The puzzle fitted together abruptly. Veronica nodded seriously as they dropped behind a car. They couldn't be seen, she understood that now—_

_"Why are you guys hiding?" _

_The two nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard the soft, innocently curious voice behind them. They whipped around to stare at the tall, blonde girl, a too-long scarf wrapped around her neck. Her very pale skin was slightly flushed, bright indigo eyes staring at them curiously. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, knees folded up in front of her chest, fingers curled in her jeans. _

_"My uncle owns the car shop. We're hiding from him 'cause we accidently broke something." Veronica interjected smoothly before Crab could say something that would potentially give them away. "My name's Veronica. What's yours?"_

_"Heather." She responded simply, not bothering to elaborate. Then she turned expectantly to Crab. _

_The girl hesitated. "…Calista."_

_Veronica smiled at Heather, drawing the focus back to her. "Nice to meet you."_

Heather pressed her hands together, trying to keep them from shaking. Her eyes darted around frantically, feeling as though an attack was going to come from any direction. Her thoughts trailed back to what had happened—and red splashed across her vision.

Oh God.

The blood. It had been everywhere, it had oozed through her fingers as she tried to staunch the flow from Calista's open wound, it was still on her hands, she could see it now—

"Heather."

Her eyes snapped open.

Veronica was standing in front of her, a worried expression on her pale face. Her hair was in a towel-turban on the top of her head; she had just taken a shower in the small bathroom connected to the room they had been given. At the moment security was lax, most likely because Calista was injured and they didn't expect them to move without their third counterpart.

"Is everything okay?" Veronica tilted her head curiously, pressing her fingers into the soft cloth on the top of her head. "You look a little shaken."

Heather unknotted her fingers, shaking them out; she had nearly killed all circulation to the tips because of how hard she'd been clenching her hands. She sent Veronica a calculating look, trying to decide whether or not she actually cared, but then decided that either way Heather didn't really care. Veronica was here, and she would listen. That was all she needed right now. "…that was the first time I've seen something like that."

"Something like what?" Veronica plopped onto the small cot next to her, still rubbing her hair. Heather guessed that Veronica knew what she was talking about, but knew that Heather needed to talk. For this she was grateful.

"Violence." A pause. "A wound like that. It was…there was so much blood." Heather shuddered again and hung her head, breathing deeply. She hated to admit it, but she was a sheltered child; she'd always stuck to the lighter side of life, choosing to ignore the darker, more dangerous parts. It made her feel just a tad…inferior, because Veronica and Calista obviously had dealt with this murkier trade before, and knew more than her.

Veronica watched her pensively, expression unreadable. Finally she sighed and turned around, unwrapping the turban on her head. "This isn't my first time seeing something like that. I was eight when I got my first look at this kind of thing…I threw up. You're doing a lot better than I did."

"Eight?" Heather asked. Why would she be eight and seeing gunshot wounds?

Veronica completely disregarded the question. "You'll get used to it. Or you'll go back home and never have to deal with it ever again, either way. Just…you know, deep breaths. Think happy thoughts. Try to focus, too, because we're going to find a way to escape."

Heather had been expecting something like this; she said nothing, simply stood up and walked over to the door. It opened easily in her hand.

"…How…?" Veronica stared wide-eyed at Heather, who couldn't help but smirk triumphantly.

"I had some free time."

Veronica wisely chose not to comment, instead brushed past Heather to look into the hall. Heather fell into step behind her,

Her eyes traveled around the empty corridor—she wasn't going to step out of this doorway until she saw something she could use—and then spotted it. An air duct! She loved those! "Come on, Heather. I found something!"

Heather, who had been looking over Veronica's shoulder at their surroundings, found the small space with her sharp gaze. Her expression instantly became doubtful; she looked down at herself, then back up at their supposed escape route. She hesitated for just a second, before saying, "Are you sure I'll fit?"

Veronica shrugged. "I think so."

"Alright then." Heather said, then abruptly reached out and punched a hole in the grille in front of the duct. Ignoring Veronica's wide-eyed look, Heather carefully removed the warped metal barrier, then waited patiently for Veronica to get inside the duct—and couldn't help but cover her mouth to hide her amusement when the silverette fell from the cubicle and landed with a soft thud on the ground. Veronica's mouth turned downwards, and she tried to get in again—only for her to fail again. Finally Heather decided to be nice and help her…but not before she let a soft laugh escape.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Veronica shouted, cheeks pinking slightly, but didn't protest when Heather threaded her hands together and got down on one knee. The shorter teen snorted in annoyance and put one foot in the hand basket, vaulting into the duct. Then she turned around and helped Heather clamber into the space, the grille being replaced a second later. Someone would _eventually _notice the giant hole in the grille, but for now it would buy them maybe a couple more minutes.

And so they began to travel through the ducts.

Farther.

And farther.

And longer.

And…

"Do you even know where you're _going?" _Heather growled, feeling a little annoyed. She was hungry, thirsty, she felt like a human-sized dust bunny, and she had to pee _really badly. _

"Yes! Uh…no. Sort of?" Veronica's shoulders shrugged at her. "I'm listening for a lot of swearing—that's where Calista will be, after all!"

"…" Heather didn't really have a response to that.

Seconds later, Veronica suddenly let out a triumphant shout. "It's this way!"

Ears pricked, Heather listened for any sign of the fiery, eloquent teen, but heard nothing. However anywhere was better than this place, so as long as they were going _out _Heather didn't give a _damn _where they ended up.

She was so motivated by the thought of getting _out _of this damn place that she nudged Veronica's shoes, trying to get her to go faster. This was probably the reason why, when Veronica tumbled unceremoniously onto the ground, Heather was too late to keep herself from falling after her.

"Grk! Get off me!" Veronica gasped, wiggling under Heather's weight. Though Heather was in good shape, she was still 5' 9"—_and _she had packed on some muscle from hiking everywhere. Veronica, while very athletic and strong, was 5' 4", was at least thirty pounds lighter—her poor insides didn't stand a chance. "You're squishing me!"

"Sorry." Heather muttered, and rolled off the smaller teen, feeling vaguely amused as Veronica slowly sat up, wheezing.

When Veronica finally recovered, the first words out of her mouth were, "What the hell do you _eat?" _

Heather shrugged. "Food."

This was obviously not the answer Veronica wanted, but Heather wasn't going to elaborate any more on the subject. The silverette stared at her for a second, frowning slightly, before shrugging and getting to her feet. "So where _are _we, anyway?"

The tall teen blinked in surprise—she'd been so distracted that she hadn't done her preliminary sweep of the room. "…hm…" She didn't know—and she said this out loud.

"File room!"

Ugh. Files and paperwork and _ugh. _Heather hated paperwork with a passion, no doubt about it. Especially since she had to file all the papers at the place where she worked. It was the bane of her existence—besides butterflies, of course.

Ahem.

Heather examined the file room, taking in all the details; it was small enough, but packed to the brim with overflowing file cabinets. _Literally. _Papers drooped down from the edges, slightly crinkled, as though they had been stuffed in there in the vain hope that they would was a computer in the corner, which Veronica had already sat down on, and was currently tapping away happily on the keys—she'd obviously forgotten their original purpose, which was to find Calista. The computer was unlocked, oddly enough, but Heather didn't really question it.

"Hey, look at this!" Veronica said suddenly, excitedly. "These files have our names on them!"

Heather whipped around, turning to stare. She didn't need to move to see the document titles the room was so small she could easily pick out the small words. "What?

Veronica clicked around, and then frowned. "Wait a minute, these files are encrypted…"

"Here." Heather, reached over her and began to type, pausing to nibble her lip every once in a while. Finally, the files came away decoded and perfectly legible.

"You can hack? That's awesome." Veronica commented, eyes wide with shock. She obviously had not been expecting Heather to be able to do that. After a minute, her face became unreadable and she turned back to the screen. Slowly she sifted through the files; her frown only deepened when she saw what she was looking at. "What…?"

Heather tilted her head and leaned in closer. "Who are Braginski, Carriedo, and Beilschmit?"

Veronica stared a second longer, before shrugging. "Beats me." She read a minute longer, then said cheerfully, "Hey, we're in Washington D.C.!"

"What are we doing in Washington D.C.?" Heather muttered to herself, before her eyes widened. "Whoever those guys are, we're connected to them in some way…"

The silverette in the seat shook her head slowly. "That's just…weird. Anyway. Can you figure out who they are?"

Heather slowly began to tap away on the keyboard, reading the information, before she shook her head, and backed away from the computer. "No, I'm not even going to try to hack into those files. I may be good, but whoever made those was better. It would be stupid to try."

"I'll write down the names so we can remember them. Maybe when all this is cleared up we can try and figure out who they are." While Heather was thinking, '_that's right…what _is _going to happen after all of this?', _Veronica removed a notepad from nowhere, and a pencil from equally nowhere. She quickly jotted down the names, then put the notepad back. "Okay. Let's find Calista!"

Heather nodded seriously. "Right."

They ran out the door, determined to find the third member of their party—

Only to crash into her. 

******I think my friends sent me another author's note to paste, but I don't remember where I put it, so I'll just wing it. **

**Okay. So the mystery is getting into it, though I'm sure it's not very mysterious. We learn how the three of them first met. Cute child bonding ensues. Cuteness. Etc, etc. **

**Thanks to any who subscribed/favorited/reviewed. **

**Turtle**


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